Community
by Vronsurd
Summary: Jaune is a model, a successful one. His boss discovers he's not a certified huntsman and tells him to go to school if he likes his job. Jaune assumes he'll float through school on charm and deceit. Beacon has other ideas. While attempting to get with a hotty in his class Jaune forms a dysfunctional study group. Based off Community. Pairings...ha. You'll see.
1. Pilot

**So, I really enjoyed writing this. Like a lot, lot. I have always loved Community. It's one of my favorite shows ever. So, writing this homage to it has been** ** _awesome_** **. You may think the characters are a little off but don't worry, they aren't really.**

 **In order to create a more sit-com feel to my setup I needed to exaggerate character flaws and even create a few new ones. This makes the characters come off OOC but the important bits will still be there. There is one who is…really really OOC. But there was nothing I could do about that.**

 **What is Community without Abed?**

 **And no one can naturally fill that role…**

 **So, Ren's personality had to get…adjusted.**

 **But the others are more essentially the same, Jaune's a good guy inside, but this one's more arrogant. Blakes way more obnoxious about her social conscious. Ozpin is…well he just is.**

 **The list goes on.**

 **I'm not bashing any character's kay? Just building my Community.**

 **No beta. I apologize. Continue.**

 **Pilot**

 _"Good morning students. Many of you are halfway through your first week here at Beacon and, as headmaster, I thought—and I am not in any way being forced against my will to say this—I would share a quick word of inspiration."_

The PA system went silent after that.

A few seconds later the speakers came back to life.

 _"Why do I have to say anything more than…are you kidding me…? Half these kids will probably be dead within…okay fine, whatever I'll_ _ **inspire**_ _them whatever that means…no my elbow is not on the…oh guess it is. Wait Glynda, we can talk about this…just put the mug down…Glynda no! Wait! Stop! I'll do it right! I'll do it right!"_

The speakers went dead again.

A minute later the headmaster's voice returned.

 _"I apologize for the technical difficulties earlier. Mrs. Goodwitch was being a scamp."_

A snapping noise erupted through the speakers

 _"Ah. And now my wrist is broken and I can no longer hold my cue cards. Let me just pick those up—with my good hand mind you—now, where was I? Right, I hadn't even started reading yet. Okay. Here we go."_

Another pause.

 _"Ahem. Hello students of Beacon. Especially, first years. This message is for you. As I am sure you are aware, this semester has gotten off to a strange start. After all, the initiation has been a Beacon tradition for decades. I'm sure many of you were looking forward to the event—I know I was. Trying to make up team-assignments is so damn boring—and it's totally underway! We'll have you first-years partnered up soon! Unless…you all want to be the lone wolf generation…? Ow! Okay! Anyway. What is Beacon academy? What does it mean to become a huntsman or huntress or the alternative gender friendly profession, huntsperson? Well, you've probably heard all kinds of things about our little school here."_

There were some papery sounds, cards shuffling.

 _"You've heard it's a 'nuthouse' filled with the suicidal-ly heroic, all of them searching for some cause to throw away their lives for…"_

Somewhere in Beacon, a crimson-cloaked reaper glanced sheepishly at her sister. The sister glared back at her with the intensity of a desert sun.

 _"…a 'run-away-home' for cowards looking to escape their families, problems, and responsibilities…"_

Elsewhere in Beacon, an heiress scoffed, rolling her eyes at the champion seated across from her.

 _"…a 'shelter' for pretentious do-gooders with a hypocritical bone to pick with the world..."_

Elsewhere in Beacon, a former White Fang Operative adjusted her bow in a bathroom mirror.

 _"…and the 'nursing home' of has-been huntspersons futilely trying to be remembered as they circle the drain of eternity…"_

Elsewhere in Beacon, a rotund professor laughed jovially.

 _"That's what you've heard. However…"_

Another card shuffle noise.

 _"I wish you luck."_

There were some banging noises from the other side of the PA system. _"Does one missing card really make that big a…? Hey! You said you would give that…Hold on Glynda, we can talk—"_

The speakers deadened—seemingly for good this time.

 **###**

"Huh," said Ren, eyes fixed on the speaker above him. "What an intriguing way to introduce some of the characters. Makes you wonder what kind of hijinks are to come."

"What?" said Jaune, thoroughly confused by his bizarre new acquaintance.

Ren returned his attention to Jaune, "anyway, where was I?"

"Deep into it," replied Jaune, "where? I don't know. But deep into it. I know _I_ was in the middle of realizing you are not the quiet guy I thought you were."

"I am a quiet guy," replied Ren, "but you said we were friends. I talk to my friends."

"Actually, I asked you what time it was, and you said 'quid pro quo' and asked me if we could be friends."

"And you said yes," pointed out Ren. "Which establishes us as friends. I felt it was then necessary to offer up some background information—to solidify my characteristics in your head."

"You want us to be best friends Ren?" asked Jaune.

Ren's response was immediate. "Can't. I already have a best friend. She's the kind of character that won't share the title."

"Fine. Do you want us to be close friends Ren?"

Ren nodded slowly. "Nora should be okay with that. As long as you don't have any homosexual predilections."

Jaune stared at his new "friend" blankly for a few seconds. "No, I don't have any homosexual predilections."

"Good. Nora says I'm too much of a blank book. I'm not allowed to hang out with people who might try to write in me. She says homosexuals and sluts are the main offenders."

"Is Nora your friend or your mother?"

"Friend. Like you."

"Right, like me. Well, here's the key to my heart Ren. And I promise it doesn't involve _any_ of the homosexuality. The brunette with the bow, in our Grimm studies class, what's her deal?"

Ren's magenta eyes closed. "Well, I haven't really talked to her, because I'm not friends with her like I am with you."

"Obviously," said Jaune.

"But she did borrow my pencil the other day…" continued Ren.

"Okay…?"

"So, I know her name's Blake, she's seventeen, she's from 'around,' and she likes Tuna, potentially more than she likes people. Not eating them. Talking to them. Not the tuna. The people. She eats the tuna; she talks to the people. And she likes the former more than the latter. Oh, and she also says you absolutely can't have her bow because she needs it as a good luck charm for the upcoming test—and every test after that."

"How'd the bow even come up?" Jaune squinted at him.

"Nora wanted to see how I'd look wearing it."

Jaune gave the effeminate boy a quick one over. It probably wouldn't look bad. Jaune preferred to look rugged. But girls dug the metrosexual thing too. Sounded like this Nora chick did.

"You could pull it off with a ponytail. You'd have to grow your hair out though."

"Hmm maybe. I've already spotted two other ponytail characters though. So, it's a no for now." Ren pulled the pink streak in his hair to the front of his face. "Maybe if one of them gets killed off I'll bring it out."

"Killed off?" repeated Jaune.

"You know, Grimm, rogue huntsmen, dust accidents, abusive parents, final bosses…plot. This is hunter school. There are all kinds of interesting ways to kill off characters. Although killing characters for the conveniences of plot—just to complete alternate character arcs is the worst… But this is a school setting, some characters are going to be static and flat and they're going to die. That's just how it works. The secret to avoiding the sadness is to not get attached to characters that are obviously just fodder for—"

"Ren," Jaune interrupted.

"Yes?" replied Ren.

"Do you have anything else for me on the Blake situation?"

"No, not really. She was worried about this upcoming test. She said she has a lot of practical experience but doesn't know much about the 'right' way to kill Grimm."

So, she was worried about this test. Huh. He could use that.

Jaune spun on his heel. Over his shoulder he said, "Ren, I see your value now."

"That's the nicest thing anyone other than Nora has ever said to me," Ren called out after him.

"Marry that girl!" shouted Jaune, not looking back.

 **###**

"No…no…ah." Jaune stopped at the door with the placard labeled 'Bartholomew Oobleck PhD'

Jaune knocked on the door twice before trying the handle. It was unlocked.

"I'm busy," called the man inside.

Jaune pushed the door open.

"I said I'm…" Bartholomew trailed off when he spotted Jaune. The relic, or antique, or rock, or whatever was in his hand fell to the ground, shattering. "Damn it!" he cried. Oobleck dropped to his hands and knees gathering as many of the shards as he could.

Jaune watched the spectacled man with a mixture dispassion and amusement. Oobleck had always been like this. It didn't matter whether he was handling a priceless artifact at the Vale Museum of Prehistoric History or a gravy dish at an Arc holiday party.

The man was jumpy.

He claimed he didn't scare easy. He claimed he was a great hunter and explorer. He claimed he was only nervous around the 'goddamn' Arc children—he claimed it was all the fault of one member of the Arc brood in particular.

But come on.

Who believed that?

Had the 'great hunter and explorer' been that scarred by one little girl? Nah. This guy was a pushover. Which was exactly what Jaune needed right now.

"Can't believe you've still got a job here after deflowering a student."

Oobleck stood, dumping the fragments of, what appeared to have once been an ornamental egg, onto his desk. He took a moment to compose himself, before addressing Jaune. "Did s-she send you? Are you here to keep spreading that lie?"

"Alana? No. She's still up in the mountains. Says she's putting herself through the bride training from hell."

"bride training from hell…" Oobleck returned to his chair. "What the hell is that even…?"

"She says it's to punish herself for getting you in trouble."

"Oh?" said Oobleck, sounding genuinely surprised. "She could have just apologized."

"She says the next time she sees you she will apologize—with her body."

Oobleck's eyebrow twitched above his glasses. "What?"

"That's the other part of her training," said Jaune. "She says you're quick when you've got some coffee in you. She wants to make herself just as fast, so that you can't escape her apology—like last time."

"But…but…" Oobleck's voice dropped. "Speed is my last defense."

Jaune had never heard a voice so broken, so distraught. Poor Uncle Bart. Alana was a force of nature, that was for sure. She'd always terrified Jaune into doing whatever she wanted when they were kids. Jaune was sure that pattern would have continued if they still saw each other often. But between his job and her…obsession with Bartholomew Oobleck they both kept busy. Their paths hadn't crossed in a year or so.

"You know Unc, most forty-something bachelors would jump at the chance to marry a beautiful twenty-two-year-old."

"I babysat her two decades ago!" exclaimed Oobleck.

"Oh, it's creepy and desperate looking as hell, for sure. But at least your in-laws know you had literally no other option."

"If you all know she is hounding me why don't you—"

"Stop her?" Jaune laughed. "Stop Alana?" He laughed some more. "I don't remember you being so funny Unc."

Oobleck gripped his own hair tightly, staring down at the broken egg on his desk. "What are you doing here Jaune? Don't you have a shoot or something?"

"Ah," began Jaune. He looked around Oobleck's office. Artifacts, documents, and books were strewn about in everywhere. There was just enough space to sit on the arm of his sofa. "Well, I wanted to say hi, so you won't be surprised when I'm in your class tomorrow."

Oobleck looked up. "Why would you be in my class tomorrow?"

"I'm a student."

Oobleck's jaw unhinged. "What?"

"Had a bit of trouble at work," explained Jaune. "I may have…exaggerated some of my hunting credentials."

Oobleck's head tilted to the left.

Behind those bifocals he was probably squinting.

"Why does a fashion label care whether you are an actual hunter?"

Jaune rolled his eyes. Good question. "Apparently, _La Hunt_ targets huntsman and huntress fashion because huntsmen and huntresses set fashion trends among civilians," replied Jaune. "But the funny thing about huntsmen and huntresses…it that they only take fashion input from themselves—and occasionally other huntsmen and huntresses. So, it's very important to the magazine that all their models be verified hunters."

"Weren't your covers some of the best-selling? And you said you single handedly saved the fur underwear market." asked Oobleck.

"We don't talk about the fur underwear Unc. Sure, it's a multi-million Lien industry now, and some would say that's mostly thanks to Jaune Arc. Others would say that's _entirely_ thanks to Jaune Arc. But we don't talk about it."

"Well, O savior of the fur underwear industry, what tipped off your employer that you were lying?"

"They wanted to show some authentic huntsman action. So…they gave me a real sword and brought an Ursa to the shoot."

"How'd that go down?"

They had told him to act natural. To swing the sword as if it was an extension of his body. To wield the blade just like he would when he was fighting the enemies of man. Then they surprised him by releasing a real Grimm.

"I chucked the sword at it and ran."

"I see how that could raise some questions."

"Right?" said Jaune, "they told me if I do well here, get all 'A's', I could get back to work after a year or two. At first, I was going to tell them where they could shove that offer. Plenty of other Grimm in the forest you know? But then I realized no one's paying as much as _La Hunt_ —no one. So here I am."

Oobleck leaned back in his seat. "I must say, it is not an inspiring journey."

"No. It's not. But they are paying for school, room, and board. So, I'm choosing to look at it as a vacation."

Oobleck smiled. "I admire your positive attitude Jaune. I really do. And I am ecstatic that you are continuing your education—despite the circumstances. But I'm afraid you may be underestimating Beacon. Succeeding here will require hard work, dedication, and a willingness to learn. Of course, as your professor, I will be here for you every step of the way. A guide in the forest. A torch in the cave. A pirate in the—"

"I am so happy to hear that Unc. I mean, I could have gone to any combat school. I chose Beacon because you're here."

"Flattered."

"You should be. What other man could provide me with academic guidance…moral support…every answer to every test for every one of my classes…"

Oobleck nodded along with him until he got to the end.

Jaune stood, approaching his adopted uncle's desk. He fished a sheet of paper from his pocket, listing all his courses for the semester.

"Jaune, if you expect me to throw away my integrity—"

Jaune held up his scroll, silencing the professor. "Hold on Unc, I know nothing's for free and everything's for sale."

"My in—"

"Hold _on_ Unc."

When Jaune was satisfied that his uncle would allow him to complete his spiel he continued. "Now I _could_ —threaten to send a message to Alana, telling her that you've found another woman."

Oobleck's pale complexion dropped a few shades paler.

"I _could_ tell her that, not only have you found a woman, you found a woman _her_ age. Imagine how she'd feel about _that_ after all those times you told her, 'you're just too young for me.'"

Oobleck flinched. It was a small facial tick but Jaune spotted it. That meant he was on the right track.

"W-well…"

"I _could_ do those things Unc. But I prefer to build my business relationships on mutual benefits."

"Benefits…?" said Oobleck, clearly relieved by the change in tone.

"Yeah, you give up a little of your integrity. And I help you avoid having everything else taken by Alana."

Oobleck gripped his hands, placing them on the desk, leaning forward. "Is that within your power?"

"Stopping her? No. The only one who can stop her is my mother, and she says…" Jaune imitated his mother's higher voice, "if it's love its love. Make him yours honey." He returned to his normal pitch. "So that's that. But I can give you a leg up. I can be your eyes and ears. I can help you when she comes here—and make no mistake—she is coming here."

Oobleck remained silent for several moments after Jaune's offer. The man was teetering, Jaune could see it. His eyes were obscured by his thick glasses but his body language was indication enough. The man sighed, reaching for his thermos. The smell of coffee escaped when he popped the top open. He took a few sips.

"Jaune, I ca—"

"You know," Jaune interrupted. "When Alana graduated from here, first thing she told us was that you guys' first child was going to be conceived on your desk, in your _classroom._ "

Oobleck swallowed, loud enough for Jaune to hear. And he hadn't taken a sip of coffee.

He had him.

The cornered professor picked up Jaune's paper, glancing over it. "I will look into it."

Jaune knocked on his uncle's desk twice and went for the door. "You're the best Unc."

 **###**

"Hey there," greeted Jaune.

The girl—Blake was it?—glanced up at him with a piercing gaze.

Her amber eyes were unlike any Jaune had ever seen. He was accustomed to working around good-looking women—it was a side effect of being a successful model—but this girl was something else. Like most huntresses, she had the body of a model. But she also had the looks—which was a bit rarer. And then there was this entire aura of mystery surrounding her. Something about her just screamed, femme fatale.

Somehow, she made sitting alone in a cafeteria look sexy.

The silence grew awkward as she continued to stare at him wordlessly.

Jaune tried again with some small talk. "Pretty crazy huh? None of us first-years getting assigned to teams yet?"

Blake regarded him a moment longer before returning her attention to her open text-book. "Don't hit on me."

A reaction. Not the best reaction. But that could come later. He sat down across from her. "I wouldn't dream of it. I just noticed you're in my class and I wanted to let you know about my Grimm-studies study group."

Blake looked up from her book again, eyes narrowed. "The guy who spent yesterday's class reading comic books and listening to music has a study group. Is there a waiting list?"

"Oh, so you noticed me?" asked Jaune, giving her an easy smile.

"I could hear your music."

Jaune's smile transformed into a smirk. Oh, she was into him. You'd need supersonic hearing to pick up music playing from his Beats by Prey. She must have been looking, looking hard.

"I wasn't paying attention because I already know the material." BS. "I come from a huntsman family." Well, that was true. "My dad taught me this stuff when I was eight." At least, the man tried. Jaune hadn't been much for listening.

"Really?" said Blake. "How would you kill this Grimm?"

Jaune glanced at the illustration she was pointing at. Her other hand—and damn! She had some beautiful hands—covered the description below.

Jaune struggled to maintain his easy smile.

Jaune was familiar with Grimm. He wasn't a hunter—he wouldn't be here if he was—but between his uncle, his dad, and his habit of _pretending_ to be a twenty-three-year-old professional hunter, he knew a bit. He knew Beowolves. He knew Ursas. He knew Nevermores and Griffins. And a couple of others. He wasn't sure how to kill them…but he'd heard stories from other hunters. He had some idea how a sniper would take out a Nevermore's wing ligaments and how a brawler would bait them down.

But…

Jaune squinted at the picture a little harder.

What the hell was that?

If there was one thing Jaune knew about killing Grimm, it was "avoid the white parts." The teeth would grind your bones. The claws would tear your flesh. The armor would deflect your blade.

But this Grim was all white. It was a ball of bone, sharp spikes protruding sporadically. A pair of beady red eyes peered out from a gap in the deadly shell. Did this thing roll to move? Jaune imagined fleeing from the ball of death through a dark forest.

It was a terrifying thought.

"Unreal," Jaune muttered.

"Hmph," said Blake grudgingly. "Maybe you know something after all."

"Obviously," replied Jaune, thinking she was referring to his general sense of awe.

Blake removed her hand, revealing the caption beneath the image. _"A beast of legend and myth, the Cloyster's existence has never been confirmed. There have been sightings throughout the years. The most reliable description of this mythical Grimm can be found in the journal of Erza Night-wind—leader of the furthest excursion into Grimm territory. The sole survivor of the expedition, her vocal cords were irrevocably damaged. Erza allowed her journals to speak for themselves—never confirming or denying their content before death."_

Ah. When he said unreal…she thought…well wasn't that almost _too_ perfect?

"My name's Jaune by the way. The group meets at four, in the big private room in the library."

Blake stood up without warning. She tucked her textbook into the satchel at her side. "Blake. _Maybe_ I'll see you there." Her hard gaze softened—but only a bit—"Thanks, either way."

Sheesh, those were some piercing eyes. "No problem."

Jaune watched the girl walk away, hips swaying. The lean muscles in her lower back flexed and contracted with every step.

Dear god.

Had he looked a little too long?

He knew the answer to that question was "yes." But that didn't give him the willpower to look away.

He managed to wrench his eyes in the opposite direction once his soon-to-be girlfriend exited the cafeteria. That wasn't creepy. He was just walking her out—with his eyes. No big deal.

Jaune glanced down at his watch. It was twelve-thirty.

 **###**

Jaune stuck his tongue out, focusing on the textbook before him. _A Comprehensive Look at Grimm and other Creatures of Darkness_ —it was a thick book but it wasn't too heavy…

So why was this so hard? The book flew from his hand. He could do it with a ball so why couldn't he spin a book on his finger? He'd seen some other a-hole in the library doing it.

So why couldn't he!?

God, life was unfair.

His next attempt nearly resulted in the loss of an eye.

"Glad to see you're hard at work."

Jaune jumped. Not a lot. But enough to show his surprise. Damn! That girl was quiet as a shadow. He recovered quickly, beaming.

"Blake, you made it!"

Blake surveyed the private study room.

Jaune did the same, it was spacious and bare. There were some bookshelves, a computer, and two large rectangular tables pushed parallel to one another.

Blake approached the seat on Jaune's right.

Jaune watched her. "So, Blake, first one here, tell me a little about yourself."

"Not much to tell. I'm just your average student, can't wait to be a huntress."

Jaune loved the lack of enthusiasm in her voice. Was she here for some reason aside from a desperate desire to throw her life away in battle against massive monsters? Jaune sure as hell was.

"You know," Blake continued in a new direction, "I was suspicious at first."

"Of?" asked Jaune, using his best approximation of the "innocent voice" he had learned from his sister, Cece.

"You, obviously. I thought you were just trying to get into my pants."

"What?" asked Jaune, voice laden with fake indignation. Hers was a ridiculous accusation. He wouldn't _mind_ trying out a relationship too!

"But when I asked one of our classmates if you were just B.S.-ing this entire study group deal he said he was coming too."

"What?" asked Jaune, for real this time.

"He also vouched for you. Said the two of you were close friends."

Close friends? _Close friends_? Oh goddamnit.

Jaune produced a tattered notebook and a pen. He slid them both towards Blake. Afterwards he coughed in his hand several times. "You know, looks like the rest of the group is running late, and I think I'm coming down with something—so I don't really know how long I'll be able to stick around today. If you just put your contact info down we can make sure all this planning isn't wasted and—"

Jaune came to an abrupt halt when a hand came to rest on his forehead. Blake, the girl whose hands he wanted on him, was nowhere near him. So, who the hell was this?

It was a woman's hand. Of that he was sure. It had to be, the palm was soft, the touch light, and there was a pleasant fragrance too.

Cobalt eyes met magenta.

Shit.

It was Ren. Simple mistake. Anyone could have made it. The guy just had girl hands.

Rather than jerking his head away from Ren's shockingly smooth touch he looked a little past him, at the pink haired girl who had a hold on Ren's wrist, forcing the contact between the two of them."

"Sorry," said the girl, looking at Jaune with, what looked like, genuine apology.

Huh. She still hadn't dropped Ren's hand…but maybe she wasn't so bad. Jaune wasn't the type to ignore a heartfelt apology.

"I'd use my own hand," continued the girl, her voice a vat of energy, bubbling over. "but Renny's better at this sort of thing!"

Huh. Wasn't exactly what Jaune had thought she was apologizing for.

"So, Ren Ranger?"

"He doesn't feel particularly feverish," reported Ren.

"We don't want to know if he _feels_ feverish Ren-a-tin-tin. We want to know if he has a fever!"

"I understand Nora. I just—"

"Can't get a good reading with his forehead? I told you the best way to tell temperature is under the tongue!" She turned to Jaune. "Open your mouth."

Right, so this was Nora, how appropriately terrifying. Jaune inched away from Ren's hand. "That won't be necessary. I just have a headache, no need to find a thermometer."

"Who said anything about a thermometer?" asked Nora.

Right. Okay. This girl was a problem.

Ren pulled his arm from Nora's grasp. "Sorry Jaune. Nora's an odd one."

The boy sniffed. Suddenly his nose was a few inches away from Jaune's collar. "Are you wearing cologne?"

"No," Jaune deadpanned. He glanced at Blake, desperate to somehow salvage this entire situation. "I'll get you two's contact information after Blake finishes putting hers down."

"Ren," greeted Blake.

Jaune groaned silently, as Blake ignored his notepad, shooting a Ren a small smile. It was the first he'd seen of her teeth.

She had some sharp canines.

"Blake?" said Ren, seemingly confused by her salutation.

"Yes?" replied Blake.

"I don't know, you called me first."

"Oh," she smiled again. "I was just saying hello."

Jaune watched the exchange with something akin to disbelief. He hadn't managed to make the corner of Blake's mouth so much as twitch. How had Ren managed to put her at ease in four seconds flat?"

"Oh, I see, the intonation of my name indicated it was a greeting. I missed that. My bad."

Did Blake's smile just get bigger?

The dark-haired beauty pulled out the chair to her left with her smooth leg. "Why don't you sit down—both of you?"

Her eyes flicked from Ren to Nora.

Nora looked at her too.

Intently.

If the frown on her face was any indication, she'd forgotten all about her intent to shove Ren's fingers in Jaune's mouth. Jaune was gladdened by that but…

The intensity in the eyes now trained on Blake was a little terrifying.

Ren accepted Blake's offer to sit, somehow oblivious to the terror surrounding him.

Jaune watched Nora shuffle around Blake and then Ren, arriving on Ren's left, never taking her eyes off Blake. She pushed her chair a few feet further down the table. Then she dragged Ren's chair to her new position, a near table length away from Blake.

Ren's expression didn't change once through all this.

It must have already become commonplace.

That done, her smile and energy returned in force. "So, what are we studying!?"

Jaune tried to reply, "You don't kn—"

He was interrupted by a panting voice.

Great, more people.

"Sorry, huff, I'm late. Huff. I was swarmed by a mob of…" She trailed off when her emerald eyes met Jaune's.

The red head huh? He had noticed her in class—how could he not? He had thought she looked familiar but then he'd noticed Blake and that was that. But now that she was right here in front of him…

"Cereal girl!" he shouted.

"Jaune Arc?" she replied.

"You know him already Pyrrha?" asked Nora.

"Yes," said Pyrrha, eyes wide, and lips parted. She looked a little shell-shocked. "We met at a sh…"

She halted when she noticed Jaune's wide eyes and subtle head shaking.

"…owing. We met at a school showing."

"You mean a tour?" asked Blake.

"Yes. A tour," agree Pyrrha. "We met at a tour of the school."

Jaune released a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. He noticed Blake squinting at him. But there was nothing he was willing to do to allay those suspicions.

"Pyrrha is our roommate," explained Ren. "We invited her."

Jaune smiled at the new girl. It was probably his most genuine smile of the day. She was quick on the uptake and seemed normal.

Most important was that, if he remembered their conversation at the Pumpkin Pete's shoot correctly, she was a world-class fighter back in Mistral. All hope wasn't lost for his chances with Blake. He could let Pyrrha take care of the studying portion of this study group, meanwhile he could focus on getting closer to his Noir goddess.

All without letting Blake suspect that Jaune knew nothing about killing Grimm.

After all, he'd claimed to know some stuff, but it'd be perfectly reasonable for him to bow out to an expert.

It was perfect.

"The more the merrier," said Jaune.

Pyrrha's smile could have been mounted on the front of a car as headlight.

"Hear that Rubes? He said the more the merrier. Stop being so nervous."

Jaune's eyebrow twitched.

Was that…?

It couldn't be…

But it certainly sounded like it.

Was that another person?

"Yang!"

Scratch that. Two people.

It was two people.

"You know I'm not good with—ooh! There's Weiss I'm gonna go grab her!"

"Come on Ruby, there's no way you're going to get her in here."

"That's not true Yang, I think I already understand how to talk to her."

"Ruby!"

"Be back in a second Yang!"

Jaune watched the door with a sense of inevitability. In walked, who Jaune assumed to be, Yang.

Whoa.

It'd been a while since he'd seen a girl with a figure exactly like his sister Crystal. More muscles and curves than Jaune knew what to do with. The perfect mixture of huntress and woman. Where was he even supposed to look?

Yang brushed, what appeared to be, rose petals from her long golden hair. "Hi! I'm Yang, we saw the flyers?"

Flyers.

Flyers?

 _Flyers?_

"I told you throwing them off the roof would work Ren," said Nora, "They do it in the movies all the time!"

Of course.

"My sister is here with me too—well she was—but she ran off to get the princess." Yang grinned wryly.

"Not the prince?" asked Pyrrha.

"You got something against lesbians?" asked Yang, suddenly dead serious.

"What?" asked Pyrrha, voice horrified. "No! I was just trying to be…I didn't know your sister was—"

"She's not!" Suddenly Yang was smiling all over again. "I was just messing with you! I do that! You'll get used to it."

Jaune really hoped _he_ didn't. The room was filling with beautiful women, some men would be envious Jaune. But Jaune knew the truth, each new addition widened his options but shortened his reach. How was he supposed to work on Blake when there was this many distraction?

Yang stretched, revealing a sea of midriff.

Then again, distractions weren't all bad. He was an adult. He could reason around them. Appreciate them when he had time to appreciate them. It'd be fine. He just had to avoid getting caught looking.

"My eyes are up here girly."

Jaune lurched in his seat. Had he been found out already? And "girly?"

Oh, she wasn't talking to him. She was talking to Nora. Who, at some point, had stood and began to circle Yang, thoroughly looking her over.

"I like your outfit," Nora said, finally.

"Thanks," said Yang "You look pretty great yourself."

Nora pulled out the chair to Jaune's immediate right. "Welcome to the study-group!"

Jaune glanced from the seat to Ren's current location. Furthest possible distance huh?

Jaune's scroll vibrated in his pocket. A message. And from Oobleck. Jaune scanned the contents.

He loved it when a plan came together.

"Who's that?" questioned Blake.

"My uncle," said Jaune, seeing no reason to lie. He stood. "I have to make a call. I'll be back in five. Have you all ever heard of a Cloyster? Discuss."

He exited the private-study-room, unsure if he had any intention of returning. On the one hand, if he made up a viable excuse Blake probably wouldn't be too angry about him bailing. On the other hand, it'd still be a major setback.

He headed for the library's exit.

Maybe he could…

He was so lost in his thoughts he just barely managed to sidestep two petite girls, one dressed in red, the other white. He picked up the last few sentences of their conversation.

"Well…if you'll be _that_ lost without me. I suppose I can join," said one.

"Thank you so much Weiss! I told Yang we could be friends if you're feeling charitable!" said the other.

Jaune slowed and pretended to look over the books on a nearby shelf.

"Who said anything about being friends!"

"We can't be friends…even just as charity?" the other girl sounded as if she was about to cry. Jaune had heard that tone a million times from his younger sisters, especially Cece. He could resist. Now. Sometimes. When he wanted to. But he didn't want to all that often.

But he could!

This Weiss girl sounded as if she was more accustomed to wheedling, negotiation, and deceit than giant watery eyes. She'd buckle like a paper wall.

"Well…that…"

"I'll be the best, most loyal friend ever. And I won't ever blow us up again I swear."

"I almost forgot about that," said the prissy one.

Oof. Jaune winced. That was a mistake. He had a sister like this Weiss. The number one rule of placating her was to never remind her of why she was so furious in the first place.

Fortunately, there was still a way out for the goddamn hero trying to befriend this frigid jerk.

"I'm still really sorry about that…"

"Sorry doesn't—"

"Pay for all that dust, I know. And I don't know if I'll ever have 15,000 Lien to pay you back. I was just thinking if you'd be my friend maybe stuff like that wouldn't happen anymore because—you know—you could teach me how to be more like you…"

Jaune would have broken into applause if he wasn't certain that would ruin everything. Turn yourself into a girl like that's project and she'd probably make you her daughter.

"I guess that's crazy though…how could I ever be—"

"Shutup dolt!" snapped Weiss. Quieter she said, "we'll turn you into a proper huntress yet."

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Weiss!"

Jaune placed his cover back on the shelf and headed for the library exit. It was nice to watch that story have a happy ending.

Now if only the same thing would happen in that study room…

 **###**

Jaune met Oobleck in front of the giant golden statue—which may or may not have been in the image of a long-dead Arc.

Jaune's father had mentioned that, around the world, there were several monuments set up in appreciation of the Arc line. Jaune, however, had not bothered to memorize the locations.

Beacon could have been one of them.

Could.

But Jaune wasn't sure.

Yellow pieces of paper flew about the windy courtyard, littering the usually pristine campus with garbage. Jaune had snagged one on his way to the meeting. It advertised a Grimm studies study group in the library.

Because of course it did.

"Listen Jaune, I'm only doing this because of the dire straits your sister has placed me in."

"Uh-huh," said Jaune eyes trained on the yellow folder in Oobleck's hand.

"You realize that as a student here Alana placed me in an uncountable number of compromising positions, including, but not limited to, locking us together in a closet and hiding the key…on her person, creating explicit writings featuring the two of us, clinging to me in public, sitting in my lap whenever I didn't have the presence of mind to escape, forcibly kissing me, binding me and subjecting me to all manner of…" Unc trailed of.

"Carnal temptation?"

"Yes…that is precisely what I was going to say. How'd you know?"

"She calls it that too, the second phase. Carnal pleasure is the third."

Oobleck's face turned a few shades redder. He looked down at the yellow envelope in his hands. "You know what Jaune, maybe I should just…"

"Don't second guess yourself Unc." Jaune reached for the package. "Alana was just playing games with you when she was a student. Next time she comes for you she'll be serious. You either cut a deal—or buy yourself a whistle. But I promise you that whistle's not gonna help when she comes. She'll probably just use it to set the pace."

"Set the p-pace!?" Oobleck stuttered.

Jaune snatched the envelope from Oobleck's hand. Normally the man would have been more than fast enough to avoid the motion. But, at the moment, his whole body was rigid and tense.

"Wait Jaune!" Oobleck called out as Jaune walked away.

"I'll talk to you later Unc! I've got people waiting on me."

That was true. What was less certain was whether Jaune would return to that mess in the library. He had the answers—the rest of the semester promised to be an easy one…

Perhaps he should count his blessings and practice some gratitude.

A day could only have so many wins after all.

Somehow, despite his negative train of thought, Jaune still wound up heading towards the library. He stopped at the place's entrance. He drummed his fingers against the yellow envelope in his hand.

To go in…or not to go in…that was the question.

He was leaning towards not.

That was, until a voice spoke from behind.

"You're back."

Jaune whirled. It was Blake.

The fortune gods really were smiling on him today.

"You're not with the rest of the group," noted Jaune.

"I was fixing my hair," said Blake.

"You look great," Jaune complimented. And she did. She really did. Although, she also looked no different than the last time he had seen her. But did that really matter?

Blake ignored his flattery with a rough exhale. "Things got crazy after you left. You said five minutes."

Jaune glanced at his watch. Twenty or so minutes had passed. "Miss me?"

"It is _your_ study group. I expect you to call it to order."

"Here's an idea," hedged Jaune, "how about we ditch the mess in the library, head into Vale, and have our own study session there?"

Blake's eyes narrowed. "Is that a joke?"

"Obviously," said Jaune. "Who would think what's about to happen in that library will be anything but a…raging success?"

Blake sighed. "Honestly, the group has picked up some less savory elements. Especially since you left. I would not be opposed to another study group—with only the desirables. Me…Ren…"

No new names were forthcoming after that. Jaune might have been more annoyed, if he hadn't been acutely aware of how unlikely anything happening between Blake and Ren. He'd seen girls like Nora before. He'd watched them relentlessly pursue middle aged family friends. Murder was never out of the question.

"How about the guy who actually knows about Grim? Or do you no longer need his help in Ren studies?" prompted Jaune.

Blake shrugged. "Well...if he insists on being an extra wheel."

"Well you, Ren—and I hope you haven't forgotten to add Nora—plus me makes a car. Wouldn't you rather be a car than a tricycle?"

"More like a bike with training wheels," muttered Blake, quieter than her usual voice, but certainly not so quiet that she didn't intend for Jaune to hear her. Louder Blake said, "Come on, first we study. Then maybe I'll take you out for dinner as a consolation prize for myself."

Well…that was something. God. Why did everyone in this school need to be so goddamn attractive and fit? Jaune was a model. He took care of himself. He should stand out.

Jaune reluctantly followed Blake back to the study room.

The girl froze just before the entrance and released, what could only be described as, a hiss. "I forgot she was here."

Jaune peered around Blake, into the study room. There was Pyrrha, Ren, Nora, Yang, and two new girls…oh red and white! Names, names…Weiss and…the red was seated next to Yang, talking to her happily—so perhaps that was her little sister…Ruby was it? They didn't look all that similar, but maybe she was adopted or something. Who knew? The third newcomer was even more off-putting than the rest.

Was that their professor?

Their Grimm studies professor!? The man was guffawing loudly, his ample stomach shook with each heaving laugh. Yep, Peter Port was attending their study group.

Why?

Jaune hadn't the slightest idea.

Blake spun on her heels. "I changed my mind Jaune, let's go to dinner right now."

Jaune tried not to cheer.

For some reason, the rest of the chatter in the study room died down, allowing one clear, high voice to speak above the rest. "Professor, I'm shocked our Grimm studies text does not include more information on the White Fang—aren't they just as great a plague on humanity?"

Blake screeched to a halt mid-step. It took Jaune a few more steps to realize she had stopped. "Blake…?"

She was already on her way into the study room. "Schnee," she roared.

Weiss turned towards her, face already locked in a fierce scowl.

Jaune groaned as he watched Blake. Cut his losses, or go for broke?

He followed Blake in.

"Jaune!" cheered Ren. "I got everyone's contact info while you were gone." Ren waved his notebook as he approached. Jaune accepted back his pad, glancing down the list of names and scroll numbers. Everyone.

Except Blake.

Of course.

Weiss Schnee?

Uh-oh.

He looked up at the white-haired girl seated next to Ruby.

She hadn't seemed so bad from his vantage point behind the shelf—but she was an elite nonetheless.

Jaune had brushed shoulders with elites at parties and events for advertising shoots. They tended to view people as objects and ruin careers on the flip of a coin. His friend had slept with a CEO's daughter, and his work dried up overnight.

Literally, one night.

He was probably lucky he hadn't disappeared, never to be seen again.

It'd be best to tread lightly here. For all their sakes.

"Can I help you?" said Weiss, after she and Blake had concluded the silent portion of their intense staring contest.

"Me? Can you help me? Before you help me, how about the starving Faunus in your mines?"

Oh…hell no.

Weiss's scowl transformed into pure rage.

Ruby subtly scooted a couple of inches away from the girl she had just tricked into becoming her friend.

Weiss stood, stamping over to Blake. She was shorter, but that didn't stop the small heiress from looming.

"The Schnee Dust Company…"

Jaune tuned out the rest. Might as well gauge the other members.

Ren returned to his seat by Nora. Nora resumed braiding his hair. Pyrrha looked…well she looked happy, inordinately so. When she noticed him looking, she flinched and looked away.

Okay.

Then there was Professor Port. He was talking to…well…everyone it looked like, but no one was listening. He was telling the same kind of story he wasted their time with in class, a pointless tale, with little to no bearing on their reading.

Ruby was reaching towards Weiss face full of uncertainty.

Yang was studying the people in the room, much like him. When their eyes met she raised an eyebrow and offered him a small smile.

Huh. Maybe he'd been a little to fixated on this entire Blake-is-my-perfect-woman thing. People made mistakes, right?

"Jaune!"

Jaune was dragged from his thoughts by Ren.

"It's time."

"What?"

"As the Ensemble Darkhorse turned lead protagonist it's your character's job to unite us."

"My character's job?" repeated Jaune, confused.

"Everyone!" cried Ren. No one paid him any mind.

And then Nora repeated him. Only she bellowed it with the force of a train whistle.

Even Blake and Weiss went quiet, turning towards the girl.

"Ren-ten is trying to say something."

"Thank you, Nora." Ren turned from his best-friend, back to Jaune.

Jaune clenched his teeth.

Don't do it, bastard.

"Jaune has some words of wisdom to share with us."

Damn it all.

Every eye in the room turned towards him. Jaune cleared his throat. What the hell did Ren expect him to say? He was a model with some acting experience—not a goddamn mediator. "Thanks Ren." He smiled. He wondered if it looked as fake as it felt.

"You're welcome Jaune."

Damn him to hell. "Why don't you two sit down?" He motioned Weiss and Blake to the empty seats.

"With her?" Weiss scoffed, "not in a millennium."

"I can't stand to be in a room with this monster a moment longer," said Blake.

"You—"

Jaune cut off Weiss's reply. "This is a study group. If you have no intention of studying then just leave. But know this. Whoever leaves first, pretty much… lost."

Jaune turned back to the rest of the seated group. "Listen guys, as far as I know, the reason we're all here is to study for this Grimm studies class," he squinted at Professor Port, "and maybe you're here to help us?"

"Not exactly my boy! But more on that later! Continue your speech, it's off to a great start!"

"Right," continued Jaune. "I don't really have a fancy speech or anything, just…let's just try to leave our issues at the door and do our best to get along with each other. I know most of us our strangers. And obviously…strangers have differences. What you have to remember is, so do friends. Friends and strangers both have differences! Tons of them. That's why strangers are just friends you haven't met yet. So next time you attack someone because of their family…" He looked at Blake pointedly. She did not avoid his gaze, nor did the smoldering anger in her eyes dampen. "Or get super defensive about your family's, obviously, sketchy business practices…"

"Hey!" exclaimed Weiss.

"…just remember that the person you're screaming at, tearing into, and trying to mentally destroy—could very well be your friend a month from now."

"Will we really all be friends a month from now?" asked Ren.

Nora answered before Jaune could. She stroked Ren's arm as she spoke. "You can be friends with Jauney Ren. And the professor. And Ruby. And…" she spared her roommate a hesitant glance. Pyrrha lifted her hands as far away from Ren as she could possibly place them, as if to say she knew her place. "Pyrrha ought to be fine too." Nora's face hardened. "The rest of these sluts though…"

She gave Blake an especially long look.

Blake was too busy glaring at Weiss to notice the murderous eyes fixed on her.

"So," said Jaune, "moment of truth. Are one or both of you going to leave? Or are you both going to stay?"

Begrudgingly Weiss and Blake both took a seat.

"Well there you have it folks. We're not just a study group anymore. And the school still hasn't assigned us to teams so we don't have those either. But we just became something better—something more powerful than a group that does homework together or a thrown together monster hunting party."

"What have we become?" asked Ruby excitedly.

"What have we become…? What…have…we…become?" Jaune stalled as he racked his brain for an answer. "We have become a community."

"A community?" repeated Ruby slowly, as if in awe of the word.

"Yes. A community. A group of people who stick by each other through thick and thin. They don't need to like each other. They barely even need to tolerate each other. They just need to stay together no matter what. It's like a family—only with people you've never met before."

Jaune's closing remarks were met with silence—until Nora began to applaud. She and Ren were looking at each other curiously. "I like the sound of this community thing."

It was the least insane thing the carrot-topped girl had said all day.

"Hear that Weiss! We're gonna be in a community together!" Ruby cheered.

"Yes, well, I suppose I don't mind being in community with _you_ Rose." She glanced at Blake. "There are, however, less tolerable elements."

Blake met Weiss's eyes with some heat of her own and then turned towards Jaune. She was clearly pissed for the inch of a step he had taken onto Weiss's side, despite that he had done the same with hers. "Well, if we're going to be a community, some ground rules are in order, right? I say since we're like a family, no romantic or sexual relationships among group members. How's that sound Jaune? Everyone?"

Whelp. He'd been seen through.

"Makes sense to me," said Yang.

"I wasn't planning on it anyway," said Ruby.

"Hmph," said Weiss."

"W-well, if that's what everyone thinks is best," said Pyrrha.

"Ren and Nora agree!" said Nora.

Port chuckled. "Ah, the flames of youth."

Jaune quickly reviewed what this study group had so far accomplished. He'd given Blake a bad impression. Wasted time and brainpower. Was somehow becoming the unwilling leader of this band of misfits. And now it had somehow put all of the hottest first years off-limits."

Screw that.

"Anyway, I hope you guys figure it out. I'm just going to study alone."

He grabbed his notepad of phone numbers and his envelope.

Sure, things hadn't gone well on this front, but at least the day wasn't a total wash. He had some phone numbers and he had the answers to every test. He was good to go.

"What?" cried Ruby. "You're leaving already? Our family is already getting broken up? The dad is leaving?"

Jaune couldn't let that one go unchallenged. "I am not the dad."

"No, you're just the sperm-donor," corrected Yang. "Since you are literally leaving your family at conception."

"You hit the nail right on the head Yang, Jaune was willing to impregnate all of us, against our wills, and now he's refusing to take care of the children."

"Okay." Jaune rubbed his temples. "That metaphor just took a dark twist."

Blake continued unperturbed. "Jaune doesn't even need to study for this class. He already knows the material because he comes from a long line of hunters. He started this whole thing just to get into my pants."

"Hey!" complained Jaune. "Don't make me sound like a scumbag when I'm just a skilled manipulator. I wasn't trying to get into your pants, I just wanted to have a sneaky date. You're the one who ruined it by inviting Ren."

"I would just like to point out," began Ren, "that Blake did not invite me. You did Jaune, when you accepted my friendship you, essentially, invited me into every aspect of your life both personal and public from now until death."

"I did what?"

Blake continued speaking, "the point is you're a liar. You have no interest in helping anyone in this group study."

"I can't help anyone in this group study! I was lying about knowing anything about killing Grimm! I'm a goddamn model for crying out loud! I can't help any of you study! But look-there, you've got the professor of the goddamn class right there. Ask him to teach you from the textbook during study group instead of telling you those obnoxious stories and maybe you'll learn something from him!"

"Actually," said Port, voice brimming with confidence. "I'm here to learn as well."

Every eye in the room turned towards the rotund man.

"Huh?" said Jaune, dumbly.

"I don't know anything in the class text. And since the tests are on the class text and I have to grade them I thought—"

"You don't know the text!?" screeched Weiss.

"Well," began Port, with just a hint of defensiveness. "I've just always been so good at killing Grimm. It comes so naturally that I never really paid much attention to _how_ I should kill them or how they operate. I just…did it."

Jaune stared at his professor for a few seconds, searching for some hint of this all being a joke.

It wasn't.

"Yeah, I'm out," said Jaune, moving towards the exit.

"You would be," muttered Blake. "A coward and a liar—what a surprise."

Jaune should have let it go. He should have kept walking. But he couldn't resist turning and throwing one last challenge. "I lied a little okay? I don't know how this all got so blown out of proportion! And just so you know I come from a world where the ability to trick people and get what you want is a boon okay! It's a boon! That _boon_ is why, while the rest of you are struggling to figure out what's on a test where even the teacher doesn't know what's happening, I'm going home to memorize the answers!"

He smacked his yellow envelope against his hand.

"You have the answers?" raged Blake, "you're a liar, a coward, and a cheat!"

"I'm not here to become a huntsman _doll_ I just need a diploma so I can—"

There was a gust of wind and a rustling of pages as Port moved. One moment he was seated on the far end of the table, the next he stood next to Jaune—a yellow envelope in his hand.

Jaune couldn't help but notice that his own hand was empty.

"You realize, lad, that if this is a collection of answers to an upcoming test at Beacon, you will not be far from expulsion."

Jaune's mouth dried and his ire faded. Right. Port was Beacon staff. He didn't know his own class's material…but he was still staff. Jaune tried to wet his mouth and maintain his composure. "I was just joking. Those aren't test answers."

"Then you won't mind if I look inside."

It wasn't a question. Jaune's eyes bulged as the man flicked open the packet, withdrawing a stack of at least fifty pages. Jaune saw the easy life he was supposed to have at Beacon flash before his eyes.

Port flipped through the pages quietly. "You weren't kidding. These aren't test answers. Do you use this to help you fall asleep at night?"

He handed Jaune the papers. Jaune read the title on page one.

 _"A Treatise on the Ethical Ramifications of Dishonesty within Academia: A Discourse by Bartholomew Oobleck."_

Jaune was relieved, for now. He'd have to decide whether he was angry with his uncle later. "Uncle Bart likes for me to read his stuff hot off the press."

"I'd be more careful about false claims of cheating young man," said Port, "as he returned to his seat. I am required to report cheating to Miss Goodwitch, and she takes it…very seriously."

Jaune had heard rumors about that terrifying force within the school. He was sure he didn't want to test their accuracy.

Okay. So now. Now the day was a total wash. These phone numbers were to the scrolls of a bunch of girls who probably hated his guts. And he didn't have the answers for _any_ test this semester. And Oobleck probably wasn't going to budge on that…

But he still needed to make it through Beacon, somehow, and move on with his life…

And the professor of the class for which there would be a freakin' test tomorrow just admitted that he would be of no help in learning the material…

Oh.

Oh, god.

Did he…?

Did he need this study group?

"Alright," he began, inching back towards his seat. "I guess if no one else is going to step up I'll call this study session to order."

"You said you were leaving," pointed out Weiss.

"I changed my mind," replied Jaune.

Blake's eyes narrowed. She stared at him the same way a cat probably looked at a mouse. "Wait, did you actually think you had the answer—"

Jaune cut her off, "anyway! We're a _community_ now!"

Nora cheered as if the last few minutes had not happened. Ren gave him a thumb's up. Yang looked vaguely entertained. Ruby looked excited over the use of the word again. Pyrrha smiled at him. Weiss was observing him suspiciously. And Blake was downright angry. Port was in his own little world.

None of them looked very keen on studying.

Jaune died a little inside.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

 **Thar she blows. So, I mixed up my update schedule a little to finish this. But I had to adjust it anyway thanks to length adjustments on Guitar Huntsman Chapters.**

 **Guitar Huntsman and Shield of Vale both switch off on Wednesdays now. That won't change. Where this and Port Chronicles will fit in that update schedule is TBD.**

 **Let me know what you thought, comments, follows, fave, etcetera.**

 **Also, if you're a Community fan like me I'd REALY like to hear what you thought. It's similar to the show but not the same.**

 **If you liked this, be sure to check out my other fics, you might like em more.**

 **As per usual, no Beta, so forgive the small stuff.**

 **-Vronsurd**


	2. Grimm Studies Part I

**Wow, this is the shortest thing I've posted in a while.**

 **So, I was struggling to figure out how this fic would fit into my update schedule—since the first chapter turned out pretty long and it was supposed to be shorter… and I've already got two longer update fics. Then I had an idea. Rather than each chapter being an "episode." I'll break the chapters into arcs and each "episode" will be 3 or 4 chapters. These chapters will be significantly shorter than my other work—and the last chapter of this fic as well. Probably in the 2000-3500 word range.**

 **That'll keep the writing manageable and allow me to update regularly. Probably every Sunday—making this my only weekly fic.**

 **That means I've got three out of four of my fic's figured out. We'll have to see about that fourth one.**

 **Especially since my friend keeps trying to convince me to write an adventure AU (RPG/fantasy/quest sort of thing set in an entirely different world.) I told him I'd think about it. And I made the mistake of actually doing that, so now I have a story I want to write. But I don't think I can update more than four stories regularly. Raaaaaaaaaggggghhhhhhh.**

 **I guess I could put The Port Chronicles on the back burner. Not many people have read the first chapter so it shouldn't be a big deal.**

 **Guess we'll see.**

 **As per the reg—No Beta so please don't hold that against me.**

 **Without further ado…**

 **Community**

 **"Grimm" Studies Part I**

 _"Ah. Now this is what Beacon is all about, allowing the young to learn from the mistakes of the old. Is there anything more...natural or...fulfilling? Anyway, that's why you should never use a massage chair for anything more than your basic massage. I really hope you all learn from my tragic mistake. I promise you. It may never look the same again. I really don't think mine, is ever going to get its shape back. I'll repeat it once more for emphasis. I should **never** have stuck my—oh, hello Glynda. I thought you were sick. Oh you are? Then why are you he—wait! Ple—"_

The P.A. went silent.

That story…

That story was…

Blake watched Yang release her tight grip on Ruby's ears.

Blake had never wanted her own big sister more than at that very moment.

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to purge herself of…

That.

When she opened her eyes, Blake resumed her bored observation.

Pyrrha sat to her immediate right. Then there was Nora and Ren. The boy was crushed to his friend's side. At the end of the table was Peter Port—whose reasons for attending their study group Blake could, still, hardly believe. On the other end of the table, starting from the corner adjacent to the professor, sat Yang and then Ruby, and, finally, Weiss.

Blake drummed her fingers against wood, glancing around the table.

She was annoyed. Very much so.

There were two sources for her annoyance—and she wasn't sure which was stronger.

First was Jaune. Namely, he wasn't here.

Now, under ninety-nine percent of circumstances Blake would have counted the absence of that smarmy douchebag a win.

Unfortunately, these study sessions were in the one percent.

Why the study group couldn't begin without him she could not _fathom_. But, considering this was their fourth meeting—and he'd been late for all of them and the rest of the group _refused_ to start without him—Blake had begun to accept the table's adulation for their pseudo group leader.

And thus, she'd been sitting in silence for nearly thirty minutes.

Of course, Jaune's absence was only one half of the equation.

There was also Weiss Schnee's presence.

Even now, Blake could hardly believe it. The enemy of faunus, equality, and all that was good on Remnant…

Was seated five feet away from her.

What was a Schnee even doing at Beacon? Shouldn't she have been at some private school, learning how to better abuse the labor class? Minimum wage and safety standards wouldn't lower themselves!

Blake increased the pace of her finger-drumming.

What was it she hated most about the heiress?

Who could say? There was so much to hate.

There was her arrogance—although it wasn't _that_ unbearable. Her icy demeanor—although it seemed to be a bit of a façade. There was also the way her voice screeched—although it was honestly pretty funny. But who could forget her irritating bluntness—although it was a far cry from the disgusting duplicitousness Blake expected.

There was also her…

Her…straight posture…?

And…

Her…

Her… long hair?

No.

None of those things seemed right.

And the answer wasn't the "faunus in the mines" either. At least not right now. No, the reason for Blakes abhorrence right now was…

Blake wanted to fight her

Not physically—the girl looked too small and fragile for a real fight, as if her porcelain skin might shatter under even a light blow. No, Blake wasn't looking for a violent confrontation. And that had nothing to do with her being hesitant to hurt the shrill huntress.

She just _preferred_ to yell at her. Just as she had on day one. Only, this time, she wouldn't let Jaune get in the way. She wanted to leave this girl crying in the corner, realizing she, and the rest of her family, were scum.

Would she maintain her perfect posture as she wept openly? Blake imagined the girl on her knees broken. Blake would let her cry alone for a while, just to make sure she really felt the weight of her sin. Then she'd guide the girl into the light. She'd take those cold cheeks in her hands and force her to look at her. She'd become the single light in the tunnel of her despair. Her only shred of hope.

She'd do to her exactly what the Schnees had done to faunus everywhere.

She'd make her an animal—only, rather than a beast of burden, she'd allow Weiss to be a pet. A creature completely dependent on her for survival.

What would it feel like to collar that slender neck?

Blake blinked.

Okay, she, might have been indulging in a little too much…pleasure reading recently. She'd only meant to imagine yelling at the girl.

The point was, Blake wanted to go at it with the…Schnee. The title alone was deserving of every ounce of hatred Blake could muster.

And from there, sprang Blake's second source of annoyance.

She glared at the girl every opportunity she had…

She dropped less and less subtle hints about her support for faunus rights during their sessions...

She would even occasionally launch a snarky attack against the SDC…

So why…

Why did Weiss just keep talking to Ruby? Why the hell would a _Schnee_ rather help a boundless ball of energy trapped in a young girl's body over proclaiming the greatness of Schnees?

"Oh, I get it now!"

Ruby's exclamation drew Blake from the mire of her thoughts.

The enthusiastic girl and the heiress had been whispering over a textbook for a few minutes now.

"You have to solve this first." Ruby motioned towards something in their book.

"Precisely," said Weiss. Her lips quirked up in the smallest hint of a smile. "Looks like you aren't such a dolt when you try."

"Don't call my sister a dolt," said Yang without the slightest force—more out of habit than anything else. The blond had taken offense to Weiss's less than flattering nicknames for her sister on the first day. But had since become less and less interested in getting involved—especially since Ruby would just giggle and grin.

At the moment, her chin rested on her forearm, her entire body limp. She was clearly bored out of her mind.

The way Weiss rolled her eyes and replied, "a dolt's a dolt" just grated on Blake's fraying nerves even further. She leaned back, peering around Pyrrha, trying to catch a glimpse of Ren.

Ren. Now there was a person she could talk to. She could already tell, he was the kind of person who wouldn't give less of a crap that she was a faunus.

The only eye she caught was Nora's. The ginger didn't look friendly.

Was she Ren's girlfriend or guardian? It was a question Blake wasn't sure it would be smart to force.

Blake glanced at the empty chair to her right.

Where the hell was Jaune?

They'd had four sessions since their first explosive meeting. Four sessions—and Jaune had been late for. Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

It was infuriating.

Why was she even still coming to these things?

Was it what Jaune had said? On day one? _"This is a study group. If you have no intention of studying then just leave. But know this. Whoever leaves first, pretty much… lost."_ That couldn't be the reason she was still here, could it? Was she that easy? Was she that stupidly stubborn and competitive.

Blake imagined the group the day she didn't show up. She imagined Weiss saying something sarcastic—perhaps about how the air tastes cleaner.

Damn it!

Why did that make her so angry?

To Blake's right Pyrrha cleared her throat.

Everyone turned towards the redhead.

"I guess Jaune's running late…again."

Blake seized the moment for all it was worth, determined to make at least one of her annoyances disappear. "Mm…yep, it's a shame too—because of how much we all love Jaune. But maybe we should just get started—"

"No!" cried Ruby. "We can't start without Jaune!"

Yang perked up at the sound of…well…something, happening. "Yeah Blake, you trying to call a family meeting without dad?"

"I was only pointing out the obvious." Pyrrha turned towards her. "I wasn't implying that we should start without Jaune. We should definitely wait for Jaune."

"There wouldn't be much point to this without Jaune," added Ren.

"Things do seem a bit dull around her without that lad! Hell, I hardly have the strength for a story. Although I'll muster it if you give me a minute or two."

Nora gave her oh-so-helpful input next, "How are we supposed to make orange juice without the J-man? Who's gonna put the J in O.J.?"

"Who's providing the 'O'?" asked Blake.

"I am," chirped Nora.

"But your name doesn't start with an 'O'," said Blake.

"It doesn't have to!" replied Nora. "The 'O' stands for orange and I have orange hair. That's why we're orange juice, because my hair is orange and when you take the first letter of the word orange and combine it with the first letter of Jaune's name you get O.J. and…" Nora faded off. "Jaune's better at explaining it."

"I don't know, you're doing a pretty bang up job there O."

Blake groaned as she turned towards the door. There he was. Jaune Arc. The oaf smiled as if he was on time—and bore gifts.

Neither was true.

"Jaune!" The entire table, aside from Blake and Weiss, collectively cheered.

Although, noted Blake, Weiss didn't seem quite as put off by Jaune's lack of punctuality as Blake had assumed she would be.

Strange.

Blake could have sworn she and Weiss were the only ones who hadn't fallen under the blond's spell. The rest had been entrapped, befriended, and nicknamed. But there was no way…

No. Weiss would lambast him for his tardiness. Just as she had in their second meeting. She was too much of a perfectionist to accept some banal excuse.

Jaune began making his way around the table. He started with Weiss. "How's the future leader of the free world doing?"

"Hmph. I am fine."

"Good to hear, I see good things on the horizon for the SDC."

Weiss didn't smile and she didn't respond but Blake could tell by her approving glance.

The girl was hooked.

Jaune continued along the table. "Scythe-master."

"Jaune!" Ruby cheered again, responding to his offered high-five. The girl turned towards her sister. "Yang..."

"Sorry Rubes," said Yang, grinning, suddenly alive with energy. "You still can't legally change your name." She turned to Jaune.

He dipped his head towards her. "B and B. How's it… _yanging_?"

"Oh, I'm just _golden_. Thanks for asking."

Jaune guffawed as he moved to his next victim. "The professor of power!" he intoned with a deep bellow. He shook Port's hand vigorously.

"Jaune, so glad you're here, I've got an announcement to make but I couldn't bear to make it without the whole party here."

"Well, worry not professor," Jaune grinned as he released his hand. "The party is here."

When Jaune walked by Port leaned towards Yang as if he had a secret to divulge.

Then he spoke loudly enough for everyone present to hear—even without enhanced faunus hearing.

"Who am I kidding? The only person who really had to be here was Jaune. I would have made the announcement ages ago if someone else was missing."

Jaune greeted Ren and Nora. "So, how are my two favorite lovebirds doing? O? Best f- _Ren_ -d?"

"Oh Jaune, you know we aren't together-together," said Nora.

"That's right," agreed Ren, "the best description of I and Nora's relationship is familial. With no prospective for a relationship beyond platonic—ever."

Jaune didn't miss a beat. "You sure about that Ren? Riddle me this, can you envision yourself in a romantic relationship with any woman aside from Nora?"

"Well…no. But that's because Nora wou—"

"I rest my case," interrupted Jaune. "You and Nora, not together-together but…maybe, destined for each other?" Jaune waited a moment and then shrugged. "Who knows."

"Huh," said Ren, clearly intrigued.

Nora offered "J" a monstrous high-five and a grin stretching from ear to ear. "Because the best…" began Valkyrie.

"…never rest!" finished Jaune.

He moved past the de-facto "together-but-not-together" couple and settled his hands on the back of Pyrrha's chair. The champion craned her neck back to look at him. He looked down at her with contagious mirth. "Hope those two aren't giving you too much trouble Pyr." He motioned to her right.

Pyrrha glanced at Ren and Nora before turning back to Jaune. "They are perfectly pleasant roommates."

"No need to lie Pyr. They know how obnoxious they are." Jaune leaned a little closer. "If you ever need to get away you can always come to my place. It's not a huge apartment but its comfy."

Pyrrha's face was beginning to blend in with her hair. "Ah. Well. Um. Thank…you…"

"Don't worry about it," said Jaune, straightening. "I've only got cereal so keep that in mind."

When he reached Blake, the boy came to a complete stop. He looked to be searching for the right words for a second or two. Finally, he gave up and decided to go with, "Blake."

"Jaune," replied Blake. "You're late."

"Am I?" asked Jaune, wide-eyed and innocent. He made to look at a watch, only to act surprised when it wasn't there. "I must have lost track of time. I should have kept a better _watch_."

He pointed at Yang.

Yang obliged him happily. " _ba-dum-tish_."

Ruby and Nora tittered.

"It isn't funny Jaune. We've been waiting for almost an hour. You're disrespecting us and our time."

Jaune's smile disappeared suddenly, like the off-switch on a flashlight. He surveyed the group somberly. "I didn't realize you all felt that way."

"We don't!", Ruby erupted.

"Yeah," cheered Nora.

"That Drake fellow over there is wrong," said Peter Port with a disapproving shake of his head in Blake's direction.

Who the hell was Drake?

"I assume you had a good reason for your tardiness?" questioned Weiss.

"Of course," said Jaune.

"Then I am fine with it."

Jaune swiped at his eyes, as if he had been on the brink of tears. "Thank goodness, I was afraid Blake was speaking for everyone. But I guess she just does that sometimes huh?" Jaune dropped his hand and fixed Blake with a blank stare.

Blake rolled her eyes. "Whatever…" She withdrew her textbook from her bag. "Can we just study now?"

"Just a moment their lass," boomed Port. "I have an announcement."

Jaune pushed his chair out a foot or two and propped his heels on the edge of the table. He rested his hands behind his head. "Lay it on us Big P."

"Well, as you all know, I am attending these study sessions because…"

"…you're too good at killing Grimm, and it's hard to relate to the strategies and tactics employed by lesser hunters." filled in Jaune.

"Precisely Jaune!" said Port, stroking his thick mustache. "I wasn't aware of the flaws in my teaching methods until Glynda revealed to me how poorly my students were fairing in upper level Grimm study classes years later! Glynda says I have caused a pandemic of ignorance." Port laughed. "Thank goodness I got tenure a year ago."

Blake had seen the dreaded Ms. Goodwitch prowling the school halls. She could only imagine how the woman felt about Port's job security.

"I and Glynda had a brief discussion about Grimm slaying yesterday. And it concluded with her surmising that, and these are her words, not mine, 'any fool with basic hunting experience could teach the class better than me…'"

Blake wondered if she agreed with that.

Sure, Pyrrha would certainly make a better teacher. So would Weiss. Those two were the ones who had managed to decipher the Grimm studies textbook for the rest of the group. That first test would have been a doozy without their meticulous analysis. Their combined brainpower was, clearly, a dozen times more helpful than the professor.

Nora, Yang, and Ruby though…probably not.

And Ren—although clearly intelligent—struck her as the type to get lost in his own thoughts and tangents.

Then there was Jaune…well Jaune could probably B.S. his way through a class better than any of them.

Whether the students would learn anything useful from him was an altogether different question.

"Basically," continued Port. "Glynda said she can't fire me—or even remove me from my position as an instructor. So, she promised to assign me a student T.A."

"Oh, a teacher's assistant?" said Jaune. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"I'm glad you think so!" said Port cheerily. "I was worried this news would upset you all."

"Why would news of you receiving an assistant upset us?" asked Weiss.

"Why indeed!" replied Port as he fished a vibrating scroll from his pocket. "I bet this is Glynda now, confirming everything." He brought the scroll to his ear. "Glynda I—oh Ozpin, how are you doing…? Ah you're taking over this bit for Glynda…She's sick? Glynda can get sick...? Can't quite read her handwriting huh…? Well I believe that is supposed to be assistant—as in teacher's assistant. She promised to get me one. You'll have that settled before my next class…? Great, thank you kindly."

Peter ended his call and placed his scroll in his pocket.

"As of tomorrow," the man announced, with his usual flare for theatrics. "Peter Port's Grimm studies will never be the same again."

"It's like the end of an era!" cried Nora.

"It really isn't though," said Ren. "There hasn't been enough repetition—nor have we built enough rapport with one another—or a potential viewer. To even pretend as if this signifies the end of an era would come off as unearned and fake."

The table silently absorbed Ren's comments before Jaune spoke up.

"Hear that Blake? Ren says you're unearned and fake."

"You sure he wasn't talking about your mom?" replied the faunus.

The table erupted into boos.

"Moms are off limits."

"What are you a monster?"

"Do you see the way she keeps picking on Jaune?"

"Who invited the Drake girl to this community anyway?"

Blake growled at the other half of the table, flashing her sharp canines. "You know what, let's just study!" She held up her book.

The rest of the table stared at her blankly. Blake looked around. No one was moving. Weiss stared at her. Ruby glanced around hesitantly. Yang's textbook was already out but she wasn't reaching for it. Port was staring at her too—in sheer disapproval. Ren was playing with his fingers. Nora was, attempting, to somehow involve herself in Ren's solo game.

Pyrrha, to her credit, reached for her bag—albeit in slow motion.

"She's right guys, we should study," suggested Jaune.

Textbooks were hastily produced and the relevant section opened.

Why.

Why did she even bother?

"Wait. Wait. I'm confused," said Jaune, glancing from the podium at the front of the class to his new neighbor. "What are you doing here?"

"Why, learning of course my boy! What else?" answered Peter Port. He then delivered to Jaune a hearty slap on the back.

Jaune groaned at the sudden pain running up and down his spine.

"But…you're the teacher…" said Jaune. Had the old man finally lost it?

"I told you I've been assigned a T.A.," said Port, as if that explained why the hell he was sitting next to Jaune.

"And…?" prompted Jaune.

"Did it slip my mind to say it yesterday?" said Port, slapping his forehead. "Apologies. Glynda is forcing me to take a T.A. _and_ she's put them in complete control of the class."

Jaune required a moment to process those words.

God…

Damn…

It…

Goodwitch made _Port_ the goddamn T.A.

They were getting a new teacher.

Jaune could feel the blood draining from his face. Sure, Port wasn't a great teacher. But at least he was a known variable. Plus, the only homework for the class was the workbook assignments corresponding with that week's chapter and section. What if they got a hard-ass? Someone with crazy expectations? Someone who was just plain crazy?

Hadn't Port said "student T.A?"

In that case…who could it be?

As if hell didn't want to leave Jaune in suspense, the classroom doors slammed open, and in entered a tall muscular man. Jaune watched him walk up to the wooden podium. When he reached the pedestal he turned towards the class, wearing a grin that could only be described as malicious.

The man spoke, "alright Beowolf-butt-munchers. The name's Cardin. But you should call me Mr. Winchester. This is my show now. The headmaster himself said so. Let's get right into killing Grimm. A live demonstration." The man—boy—person, hoisted his mace. "I'll need a couple volunteers to play the Grimm."

 **Anyone watch volume 5 chapter 1? No spoilers—but seriously I'm not looking forward to trying to integrate new cannon into my story Shield of Vale since it's a sweeping time travel fic. It's gonna be a nightmare—real brutal. Blergh. Good reason to start another fic and change all my big ones to tri-weekly though—so I can see where the hell this season's gonna go.**

 **Tata,**

 **Vronsurd.**


	3. Grimm Studies Part II

**Last chapter I accidentally said this fic updates weekly on Sundays. I meant biweekly. It's going to switch off with Port Chronicles as soon as I finish outlining the rest of Port Chronicles.**

 **You may notice today isn't Sunday—I spent most of my free-time yesterday outlining the next ten chapters of Port Chronicles. So that's why this one's a** ** _little_** **late.**

 **That said, please enjoy.**

 **"Grimm" Studies Part II**

Jaune was losing hope.

It wasn't an unusual thing for him to lose. He was, after all, a bit of a pessimist. But his life hadn't devolved into chaos quite this quickly until he started attending Beacon. Now the anarchy was a daily occurrence, like hugs from Nora, or weird meta references from Ren.

Jaune watched their new Grimm Studies "T.A." scrawl his name on the large blackboard behind him. Jaune mouthed each word as the boy completed it. "Cardin…The…Rock…Winchester."

Jaune leaned towards the class's actual professor—the man seated next to him, paper and pencil in hand.

"Who is this Cardin guy?" whispered Jaune.

"A fourth year," replied Peter. "I remember teaching him...vaguely."

"Is he a genius?" asked Jaune, wondering just how impressive one had to be to receive control over a class as a student.

"Maybe," said Port, "I seem to recall him being an obnoxious twit though."

"Huh," said Jaune thoughtfully. 'Genius' and 'obnoxious twit' certainly weren't incompatible with one another. In fact, often, it was the most intelligent people who were the most obnoxious. Still, 'obnoxious twit' and 'good teacher' rarely went hand in hand.

"Is that a fourth-year thing?" Jaune motioned towards the name Cardin had written. The boy appeared to be working on a signature beneath it. "Will we get…words…stuck in the middle of our actual names?"

Port shook his head. "No…no one does that, as far as I am aware. I mean…it's pathetic, isn't it?"

Jaune nodded.

It sure was.

"I mean," continued Port, "who the hell would stick their title, proof of their prowess, in the middle of their name? That's just asking for it to get lost! Can you imagine? Peter the Paladin of Power Port…?" The teacher faded off.

Jaune watched the man drift into thought. After a few seconds Jaune asked, "you like it, don't you?"

"It has a certain ring to it, doesn't it?" replied Port hastily. "I've always assumed Peter Port: Paladin of Power was fine as is but... I may have been naive."

Jaune was trying to determine the best way to respond to that, when Cardin finished signing beneath his name with a flourish. Jaune stared at the chalkboard with concern. Cardin's signature…the dot atop the 'i' was a carefully drawn circle with spikes. It looked like the head of a mace.

This guy included his weapon in his _signature_.

Maybe it was just a quirk…

Maybe their new T.A. was just eclectic—a strange but amusing dude…

Maybe he was just the male equivalent of girls who dotted their 'i's with hearts…

Maybe…

Jaune leaned towards Professor Port again. "You said the headmaster of the school set this up himself, right?"

"Yes."

"The guy who's always telling those…stories over the PA system?" continued Jaune.

"That is correct lad," said Port.

"Is he…" Jaune wondered how best to phrase his question. In the end, he went with the straightforward approach. "Is he better than he seems?"

"Ozpin?" Port laughed. "At his job?" Port laughed again. "Jaune, my boy, this class was doomed the moment Miss Goodwitch fell victim to illness."

Ah. Wonderful.

Jaune was drawn from his thoughts by Cardin.

"Alright, Beowolf-butt-munchers, you can call me Mister The Rock Winchester. Or Mister The Rock for short."

Ah. Well.

That was...

Ha...

"Now, I know what you're all thinking..."

Did he? Did he really?

"And I know that because I can read all of your minds. Cause you stupid first-years all think the same." Cardin's voice suddenly spiked. He moved away from the board, walking down the aisle, providing unlucky students with prolonged eye contact. "I am already inside... each... and... every... single... one of you." Cardin rotated slowly in the middle of the room, making sure his eyes fell on everyone. "And if I'm not inside you yet..." Cardin stopped when his eyes met Jaune's. "I will be."

Jaune looked away first. Actually, he looked away immediately. Locking eyes with this sort of guy could only spell trouble. Jaune kept his eyes trained down, but he could hear his footsteps. He was getting closer. He was right in front of him. He was leaning over him.

"Hey, you. Mop-head."

Jaune reluctantly looked up. Shit. This guy was unquestionably, undeniably insane. It was in the eyes. Those sadistic little eyes.

He was the kind of guy with a chip on his shoulder—who put the chip there himself and used it to justify chopping off other peoples' shoulders.

"Yes?" replied Jaune, polite as all hell.

Cardin's head tilted to the side. "Tell me what I'm hearing you all think."

Tell him...

What _he_ was hearing...

The rest of them thinking...

Jaune licked his lips. He looked around the room subtly. Every eye was on him, but no one seemed keen on throwing themselves on the track before the Winchester locomotive. Jaune was alone. He glanced to his right. Port was furiously scrawling notes.

On what? Jaune wasn't certain.

"I'm sure..." began Jaune, testing the waters as best he could. "I'm sure we're all excited to learn about Grimm from—"

"Wrong!" shouted Cardin.

Jaune did his best not to flinch as hot spittle rained down on him. "E-excuse me?" Jaune's polite veneer was wearing a little thin. He could feel it slipping.

"I said, you're wrong mop-head!"

Cardin turned back to the rest of the class—thankfully before Jaune reacted. "I'll tell you what you're all thinking. You're thinking: why?", Cardin's voice slipped into a mocking falsetto. "Why is this man teaching our Grimm studies class? Why is a student in charge of little old me? Why does Cardin The Rock Winchester get to decide who passes this class? Why does he get to decide who fails? Who lives and dies?"

Cardin returned to the head of the classroom, slowly, like a lion stalking its prey. "You all want to know why I'm here don't you?"

Jaune took a few calming breaths. He picked up his pencil and twirled it.

Was he pissed?

Yes. Oh, indescribably so.

But would he act on it?

No. No, he wouldn't.

The plan was to float through school unnoticed. Getting into a screaming match with this lunatic would not only get him noticed—it would also have the potential to keep him from floating through school.

Or progressing at all really.

Jaune looked over his shoulder, at Pyrrha. The two exchanged uncertain expressions. Jaune offered her a small smile at the end. The redhead beamed a massive grin back at him.

Most other students in the class were doing something similar, exchanging confused, borderline terrified glances, or laughing nervously.

Who knew? It wasn't too late for Cardin to reveal this whole thing to be a joke.

"I said 'don't you!?'" Cardin The Rock Winchester erupted without warning, resulting in several vigorous nods and one whimpered, "yes!"

"Alright, I'll tell you why I'm teaching this class..." Cardin's voice grew quiet. He swept the crowd again with narrow eyes. "Well, it's simple..."

His voice turned back into a roar. "It's none of your freakin' business! You got that!?"

When he received little response from the class Cardin singled out Jaune once again. "You get it Mop-head? Or do I have to piss it out for you and mop it up with your hair?"

Jaune's pencil snapped. "No, I get it." He spoke from between clenched teeth.

"Good," said Cardin. The T.A. glared at his class for a moment more and then retreated to his desk. "Now I didn't have a lot of warning for this class—but you're just a bunch of dumb first-years so how hard can it be?" Cardin rustled through some of the desk drawers for a minute before withdrawing a large three ring binder. "Here we go, let's see what the witch recommends for the class."

Jaune watched Cardin flip through the large binder. He leaned toward Professor Port. "Is that the class curriculum?"

Port shrugged. "Don't know, never opened it."

Jaune glared at the him.

Jaune's anger bounced off the stoic man like pebbles on a Grimm. "In my defense," said Peter, "I was not aware that there was an issue with my teaching methods until recently. How was I to know Glynda's magic lesson book was necessary?"

Jaune shook his head. What was he going to say to that?

Fortunately, Cardin left him no opportunity to try a response. The T.A. slammed the binder closed, sending a thunderclap reverberating through the room. "Well we're definitely not doing any of that name-learning shit. Take it from a fourth-year, don't bother with names till you're at least past second year—that way you don't waste too much time with the weaklings who are going to kick the bucket anyway—unless they've got a mop on top their head." Cardin fixed Jaune with a contemptuous smile. "Some names are worth remembering."

Jaune squeezed the broken pieces of his pencil. A sharp edge bit into his palm. But he didn't care.

How dare this ugly POS with his horse looking hair, and autistic taste in clothes...

"Anyway," continued Cardin. "I found something pretty interesting near the middle of that thing. I'll pair you up and—"

"Cardin." A high-pitched voice interrupted the made T.A.

For a moment Winchester looked as if he might, literally, explode with fury. His anger disappeared when he saw who the voice belonged to. "Well, well, Weiss Schnee. Didn't see you there."

Jaune sat up a little straighter, so he could make out the straight-backed heiress at the front of the class. "Don't patronize me Cardin, you've met my eyes at least three separate times."

"It's the scar, I'm used to your fathering making you cover it up. You're looking like a real huntress now."

Jaune was shocked—somehow...that didn't sound like an insult? And the two knew each other?

Oh.

Suddenly this all made a lot more sense. How did a nut-job get a job they were clearly unqualified for?

Jaune glanced at Port.

In his case, looking good on paper. Even if he couldn't teach worth a Lien.

And in Cardin's...

Coming from a filthy-rich, ultra-powerful, snuggled-up-with-the-Schnees kind of family?

Well what couldn't that get you?

"Yes, well, be that as it may, Cardin, please start the class at the beginning of the curriculum."

Cardin's face remained pleasant—but only in that eerie way of someone keeping a close handle on their anger. "Are you trying to tell me how to run my class Weiss?" he asked from behind a fake smile.

"I don't 'try' Cardin, I am simply telling you."

Jaune could practically see Weiss's forced expression through the back of the girl's head.

"Careful, Miss Schnee," grated Cardin, "I'd hate to have to send you to the headmaster's office."

"That would be a shame, since I would take such an act as a declaration of war against myself and my family," Weiss growled.

Cardin's eyebrow twitched. Jaune wondered if Weiss's was doing the same or if she had donned a victorious smile.

"Anyway class!" Cardin returned his attention to his spectators. "We're not bothering with that name shit. You all remember my name and—mop-head obviously—plus the official class clown, Twinkle Twinkle Little Scar.

Weiss's chair slid back as she shot to her feet.

Cardin continued with a smug smirk. "So, you all are going to pair up. Normally it'd just be your partners. But since you guys don't have any—I don't give a flying crap who's with who..."

Jaune cracked his fingers. This could be a chance to work his magic on Blake one-on-one.

"...except for you two. Mop-head, you're with Bowling Ball. Cause you look like a pin wearing a wig."

Jaune and Port exchanged a look—neither were fans of their new nicknames. But Jaune was clearly struggling with it more.

A lot more.

"This assignment is a piece of cake. You and your partner are going to do some research on ways to kill Grimm 'correctly'." Cardin added finger quotes to the word as he spoke. "Whatever the hell that means. Then I'll just sic some Grimm on you and you can show us what you learned."

"Cardin," said Weiss sharply. "You haven't taught us anything yet!"

"Trial by fire," replied Cardin.

"There's no point to a trial before we've been trained!" said Weiss.

Cardin rolled his eyes. "It's not a trial. Call it a demonstration. You just need to dome some Grimm. If we're lucky we'll thin out the ranks a little. This class size is obnoxious. And what hunter team needs a mop anyway?"

Jaune snapped the moment those purple eyes met his. He saw red, it clouded his vision like a crimson vapor. He stood, his chair falling over. "Shut up you pubic haired troll!" His voice was far more screechy and unstable than he would have preferred. He simultaneously sounded as if he was on the verge of tears and a hissy fit.

But he didn't give a flying crap.

The rest of the class had already been quiet. But now it went deathly quiet. Most people weren't even breathing.

Even Weiss was silent. She turned towards him, as did most others in the class.

"You—" Cardin began.

Jaune interrupted him again, his voice getting even higher, "I'm beautiful you toad-looking uggo! You wouldn't know beauty if Scarlet Romansson was the one who dropped you down a flight of steps as a baby."

If it was possible, the silence deepened.

"What did you—" Cardin attempted to begin again.

Jaune interrupted him the same way, "I said your hair looks like they transplanted it off goat balls—did you get it from your mother?"

Cardin was frozen, body and mind. His mouth moved for a few seconds, but he did not manage to produce any real words. His face however was turning a darker and darker shade of red every second.

Jaune didn't know the boy well. But he had a feeling that wasn't a blush of embarrassment coloring those cheeks.

The quiet in the rest of the room had become like a physical entity, busily showing the lips of every student shut.

The stillness was broken, not by Cardin, but by Blake, seated a few spots to his left.

"Boo!" she cried with unusual enthusiasm. "Boo!" she cried again. She looked at Jaune.

Jaune met her gaze.

"Moms are off limits."

 **So, I'm trying to make sure I've got all my stories planned ten chapters out each. It's eating up a lot of time. Two are completely planned out already. But the other three...**

 **Don't forget to check out my other stuff if you liked this.**

 **Next update – November 12** **th**

 **-Vronsurd**


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